Retribution

Chapter Nine

Their reconnaissance of Deva complete, Caradoc, Ardwen and Brennus left the newly established garrison town and began to ride slowly south. They had decided to go via the relatively small hilltop fort at Bees Stone to the south-east approximately fifteen miles away. It was far enough from the major garrison not to arouse suspicion as long as they weren’t found to be paying too much attention to it and the surrounding land. If they were recognised their plan was to claim ignorance about the Quaestor’s duties, they were merely traders seeking to sell their livestock to the men of the legions wherever they found them. The small fortification was easily identifiable from a distance, as it sat on a crag that rose up from the relatively flat plain of the surrounding countryside, nearly four hundred feet high. The fort’s walls gave a breath-taking view of the territories to the west, lands that were held by allies of Caradoc, the Ordovices and further to the north, the Deceangli. These lands were hostile to the men of the legions and the sight of the dark mountains in the distance covered in trees did nothing to encourage them to explore the interior.

The brief lowland between the fort and the mountains was a no-man’s land, where few ventured except for those who lived there in small settlements of roundhouses. Inevitably they were allies of the indigenous population and were a good source of information for the war bands looking for intelligence about the occupiers to the east, but they tried to live in peace with the invaders. The site of the fort had been in use by the local peoples for centuries and had been a natural location for a hill fort for those in the area that was until the Romans had arrived and taken it from them. The crag loomed large as they approached and from this side the three men had a clear view of the sheer sandstone cliff that led to the summit. On the opposite side, a gentle slope led to the top, but here it was a natural defence that would be accessible to only those brave enough to scale a dangerous vertical wall.

“That would be the best way in.” Caradoc said looking up at the cliff face. “They have a few walls on the other side but here, only at the top. We could be at the wall and inside before they knew we were even near and if we went in under the cover of darkness, they wouldn’t know they were being attacked until it was too late.”

“It’s a good plan and one that I want to be involved in.” Brennus said. “My sword thirsts for Roman blood and it will drink well from their streams until I make them rivers.” He smiled as he spoke.

Ardwen smiled as well, “Do you think you can haul your big bulk up that cliff face Brennus? We wouldn’t want your carcass falling and crashing into the trees, it would alert them to our presence and no doubt take about twenty of us with it.”

Brennus turned smiling once more, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine and I’ll also be up there before you with your little girl’s arms and spindly legs, you must have forgotten our time as young boys climbing in the mountains, I’d be resting at the top whilst you were still pulling your scrawny body up tree roots and crevices. Here,” he said looking at the crag, “my blade will be gorging itself deeply from their veins while you are still struggling up the sandstone and tree roots.”

Caradoc turned from the crag and looked over as the two men remembered their time as youngsters, when all they had to worry about was raids from other tribes. The attacks however were aimed at livestock not people in the main and there were enough cattle, sheep and pigs for it to be a rare event. The forests were rich with wildlife as well, where dangerous boars were to be avoided unless hunters had a keen eye and were experienced bowmen and hunted in groups with spearmen. Wolves were also to be found wandering in packs but were rarely seen during the daylight hours, unlike the boars they would rarely attack a human being unless cornered, injured or provoked.

As they continued along the track to the base of the fort, they came across a small settlement, it was a cluster of about ten roundhouses where dogs barked and children ran out to greet the riders as they approached.

“Food sirs?” One grubby boy asked his face streaked with dry mud. “We have new food brought to use by the Romans, would you like to try some?”

The three men exchanged glances. “What food do you speak of boy?” asked Ardwen.

“We have fresh apples sir, not sour like our crab apples, they’re sweet and tasty. There are also grapes, mulberries and cherries, very nice and sweet as well, come try them my mother has some to sell.” He pointed over to one house in particular.

“How did your mother come by these foreign things boy?” asked Brennus.

“She is friends with one of their soldier’s sir,” his face lit up with pride, “he visits when he has time and gives us food to try. He’s also given us vegetables, we’ve even started to grow our own now and they’re all tasty and make our food much better.”

“What does your mother do in return for these gifts?” Ardwen asked.

“Nothing sir,” he said looking confused, “he just gives them to us, he wants to be our friend, that’s all.” The boy said grinning honestly.

“We’ll take a look.” Caradoc said, “thank you.” He looked at the small settlement and then back to the boy, “what’s your name lad?”

“Elus sir, my name is Elus.” The boy said beaming. He turned and ran with the others towards the settlement that was surrounded by a low wicker fence.

Out of earshot of the boy Brennus frowned. “The whore’s probably spreading her legs for the entire legion and getting apples in return,” Brennus said.

“They’re probably just doing what they can to survive my friend, that’s all.” Caradoc said as they got closer, he saw the boy leading a woman by the hand that he assumed was his mother. She wore a green plaid shawl around her neck that looked to be made from wool and a dress down to her knees made of the same material. She was attractive and in the mid-twenties, perhaps reasons for the generosity of the newcomers.

“I welcome you in peace,” She said looking up at the men and smiling a warm greeting, “Would you like some refreshment for your journey?” Five men appeared from the houses behind her carrying swords and axes.

“Are your men as friendly as you?” Caradoc asked watching the men behind her standing like guards. “We are unarmed and are travelling south back to our homes at Isca after trading with the garrison at Deva.” He was surprised at how easily he lied. Maybe he had convinced himself he was actually a trader who wanted to live side by side with the Romans in a different reality.

“Trading you say?” Asked one of the men walking forward but drawing level with the mother, he was as tall as Brennus but a little more well-fed as his stomach testified and not as muscular as the broad Silurian.

“Trading yes, we have livestock they are interested in buying, what is it to you?” Caradoc asked.

“We don’t want any trouble here.” he replied. “If that’s all you’re interested in, you are welcome, please tether your horses here and take a drink with us.” He indicated to the wicker fence and turned walking away, followed by the others. The three Britons dismounted and tied their horses up.

Elus had suddenly become shy and was standing peering from behind his mother. “I am Deorwynn, Elus’ mother, welcome to our home.”

Her brown hair was long and ran to the middle of her back where it was tied into a tail; here there was also a carved bone pin. Caradoc saw she wore Roman style leather shoes on her feet.

“Thank you,” said Caradoc, “we can spare a little time for your hospitality. Your son tells us you have food provided by the Romans?”

She half turned blushing slightly and frowning at her child, “Well we did have quite a lot but most of it has already been eaten, you are welcome to try what we have left if you like?” She said. “Wait here and I’ll get some.” She turned and went into a roundhouse and returned a few seconds later carrying a tray with different coloured items on it.

“What are those things?” Ardwen asked pointing to a pile of red balls.

She smiled, “Try them they are tasty,” she put the tray down on a table, “these red ones are called cherries.” She picked one up and handed it to Ardwen, he frowned as he took it between two fingers.

“It feels strange,” he looked at Caradoc and Brennus, “like I would imagine an eye to feel if it were outside the head.” He grinned and quickly threw the cherry into his mouth, his eyes widened as he bit down onto it.

“Mm,” he managed pulling a strange face, “it’s full of some sort of tasty juice like a large berry,” he grimaced smiling, “quite nice though, try one.”

Deorwynn laughed as the three men tried her fruit and Elus lost his shyness as he saw them relax.

“Elus bring four chairs out.” She said.

“You have chairs as well?” Brennus asked.

“Of course,” she replied smiling once more, “what do you think we are barbarians?” She laughed, the men frowned.

Brennus raised an eyebrow, his features turning dark but before he could respond Deorwynn said, “They are very useful both inside and out but better out here when I have more supplies. With them I don’t have to stand all day and set the food up on the table by the track with chairs for anyone who wants to rest and have some refreshment. The soldiers from the fort stop by as well sometimes when they are out on patrol.” She pointed up at the fortified wooden structure looming over them from the high crag.

“And what do they give you in return?” Ardwen asked.

“These,” she said her hand going into a small purse attached to her belted dress. “They’re tiny but we can use them to buy other things at Deva when we travel there, which isn’t often but when we do go, I can buy goods.” She turned, “Like my hair pin, look, it has a snakes head at one end and a tail at the other.” She smiled proudly.

The men leaned forward looking at the pin. “Why would you want a snake pin of all things?” Brennus asked.

“The Romans don’t look upon them as evil as we do, to them they are a sign of life and of medicine, don’t ask me why but they are.” She picked up an amphora and filled three wooden cups. “Here try some wine.”

“We don’t have Roman coins to pay for it.” Caradoc said.

“Don’t worry, you can have it for nothing this time but when you come back to trade, you can buy some goods from me and pay me then.” She said smiling once more.

The men drank the wine in one.

“Have you been to the fort?” Caradoc asked looking up at the crag.

“Of course many times,” she began, “before the Romans came it was an old hill fort, our ancestors lived there, I was brought up on its slope.” She pointed. “It’s around the other side you can’t see it properly from here. The Romans identified it as a good location for their own fort so they threw us off, it’s one of the reasons they give us food now to try and make up for it.”

“Does it make up for it?” Brennus asked his gaze suddenly serious.

“Well at first…..” Deorwynn began to say before she was interrupted.

“No it doesn’t” The man said who had first approached them when they had arrived. He had apparently been eavesdropping from the cover of the nearest roundhouse. “Our ancestors lived there as Deorwynn said for many generations but they came and forced us to live down here.”

“Oh be quiet,” Deorwynn said, her face reddening once more, “you know it’s not too bad here and we’re out of that dreadful wind in the winter.” She turned to the big man. “How many times have we talked about this? We can’t do anything about it and things are so much better now in so many ways, we have better food and have access to their doctors and medicine and fine wine, we never had those things before.”

“I’m just saying that’s all.” The man said and turned once more lifting the door skin he went back inside.

“It seems not everyone around here is happy now the Romans have come.” Ardwen said.

“The men are unhappy when they remember the old ways but they are still free to hunt and roam the lowlands as they were before.” She said. “They’re not happy unless they’re grumbling about something. I think they feel unmanned by their presence but it’s senseless complaining,” she looked up to the fort, “they are here and there’s nothing we can do about it, we just have to get on with our lives as best we can.” She looked at the three men, “Will you take another drink?” She asked.

“Thank you but no,” Caradoc said, “we have to be going, we’ve a long way to travel.” He smiled at Deorwynn. “Thank you for your hospitality, do you think your man could show us the best route south?”

She laughed, “Oh he’s not my man, that daft oath, Elus’ father died three years ago, he’s my brother.” She went inside and then came out with him following her looking rather sheepish. “Show these men the best way south Elud, it will give you something to do and stop you moaning.” He didn’t look happy but nodded and went to get his horse.

Two days later as the daylight was fading, Caradoc looked upon the fort once more, but this time he had three hundred warriors with him. They were still some distance away but the prominent crag stood out clearly across the lowland, to the left was a long tree lined ridge rising about two hundred feet, it would provide ample cover for their approach. Elud had agreed to once more help show them the best route to take only on this occasion it was in order to attack the Roman fort at Bees Stone. He had virtually volunteered his services a few days before when it became clear he hated the occupiers as much as Caradoc and his men, telling them that he would do anything to help clear them from their land. There was no doubting his venom as he spoke of their ways and how they had taken over parts of their land and limited their lives. When the warriors had confided their intentions to him, he had said that he and his friends would want to take part in the attack even if it meant moving afterward and leaving his sister behind. He had been told not to say anything of their intent because if word reached the Romans, they would be slaughtered to a man. Elud had reluctantly agreed but had begged to go with them after the assault on what had been his home. Caradoc had agreed saying that he could always use brave men to fight the oppressors.

As darkness began to quickly fall and it became difficult to make out the ridge and the crag beyond, Caradoc raised his arm and signalled his warriors forward, they would use the thick woods as cover and find Elud at the base of the ridge where he had agreed to meet them, saying his sister would be told he was out hunting. Brennus had argued that it wasn’t wise to trust the Cornovii, the local people, but he had eventually succumbed. They had agreed that in the unlikely event that they were being led into a trap, they would fight their way clear and disperse back into the mountains to the west as quickly as possible. They knew that the Romans would be hesitant to pursue them, knowing that they could be easily led into an ambush themselves in hostile territory. Caradoc and Ardwen had ensured that they only took only their very best warriors with them, men that they could trust and who would fight their way clear if need be.

Silently, except for the sound of their horses hooves padding on the pine needle covered ground and their breathing, they slowly made their way towards the ridge where their mounts would be left to await their return. Caradoc wondered briefly how many horses would return led by others, rider-less, but he quickly dismissed the idea, now was not the time for hesitation. He knew that Dumnoc was taking the fight to the enemy in the south and had already led two successful raids on villas, now it was his turn to lead by example.

Varro had been wrong about the Britons vanishing the next day and as dawn broke, pale drawn faces stared out at them from the trees across the clearing. The rain had stopped but the ground was covered in mud all around the sieged fort and littered with already decomposing and bloated corpses that were starting to smell.

“Here we go again,” Cammius said quietly to Varro, “don’t they ever give up?”

He didn’t wait for a reply before going on and shouting across the walls. “Choose your targets carefully men and only fire when you are certain of hitting them, this will be their last chance because reinforcements will arrive today and they’ll all cover the ground tomorrow, dead and putrid like their friends out there.” His words were met with nervous smiles, clearly the men weren’t reassured.

As they watched, one man stepped forward out of the trees, he raised his arms showing that he was unarmed but bowmen and the scorpion crews trained their weapons on him regardless.

“Hold.” Cammius ordered raising his right arm. He turned to Varro. “Mm I wonder what he wants.” He asked.

Varro replied, “Maybe he’s going to ask if he can surrender.” He smiled, “or most likely, ask, for our surrender.”

“Well if he is, he won’t get it but what he will get though is an arrow through his head for his trouble.” Cammius replied frowning out over the bodies between them and the Britons. He looked quickly to the interior of the fort, “and we haven’t got enough space for their surrender anyway.” He said smirking.

“Romans,” the warrior shouted in heavily accented Latin, “we go now and leave you to this place. We know that your leaders will send help and after many days of fighting we are in no position to face fresh soldiers. We have taken many injured in our number, but we have also bled your men and the other fort is destroyed and its men all dead.” He pointed off in the direction of Restormel. “Know this……” he paused, “we will return to this place. We will not let you rest until we have sent you back to the sea. This is our land, our soil where our ancestors were born, you do not belong here and we will fight to the last man or woman, wherever we find you.”

The pale faces began to vanish into the foliage until there was only one left, the man who had shouted. He bowed slightly as if in respect and then turned and disappeared into the trees.

Cammius turned to Varro, “Quite eloquent for a barbarian eh?” He said. “Dumb bastard!”

Varro continued to stare outward, “We should wait until we’re certain they are gone. It could be a trick.” He said.

“Yes I suppose you’re right, tricky these Britons eh?” he turned to address his men. “Right, all those who were due to be stood down, go and get some rest, those others are to stay on duty until relieved.” He began to walk towards the nearest ladder. “Come on Varro let’s get some breakfast and then we’ll decide the way ahead eh, I wonder if there’s any pork left over?”

By mid-morning there had still been no movement outside the walls of the fort or in the woods beyond, it was quiet except for the carrion fighting and squawking over the corpses below. Cammius and Varro had climbed the ladder three times since the appearance of the chieftain, but had not seen or heard anything that would indicate the Britons were still there, they were sure they had gone. The two centurions had decided upon a plan, rather than waiting for fresh troops to arrive, a squad of twenty four men including Varro’s Equites Legionis would venture outside, all had been briefed that at the first sign of trouble they were to retreat to the safety of the fort immediately. The remaining legionaries were stood to and manned the walls and gate, ready to respond if required at a moment’s notice. Varro’s men had been given legionary scutums that would afford them better protection in case of attack, and they would form a testudo with the other regular troops and withdraw under cover from the defences.

The twenty four men were in six rows of four as the gates creaked open for the first time in days. They all wore full armour, chainmail in the case of Varro’s men, segmented armour, for the regular infantry. The first task was to reconnoitre the immediate perimeter where the dead lay up to the edge of the woods, if the area was all clear, they were to look for any signs of the enemy where their camp had been, but were ordered not to enter the woods immediately. It was all to be done in slow time, they couldn’t risk any more casualties and they certainly couldn’t risk any of the Britons getting beyond their own perimeter.

Varro was to lead the reconnaissance patrol and stood in the front rank with his eyes searching the mud and corpse strewn ground in front of him beyond the gates. He raised the pila he had been given for the task and indicated for the patrol to move forward, shields raised, every soldier was carrying a javelin. Once the last man had exited the gates, they were slowly closed behind them but were not secured in case they needed to retreat quickly. Varro stopped and listened for any sign of movement, his ears scanning in all directions but there was nothing. He turned and looked up above the fort’s gates and saw Cammius standing ready, he shrugged down at Varro.

The centurion turned away and said quietly to the men who had volunteered to go with him. “Remember at the first sign of trouble, we’re to double back to the gates, shields up and they’ll be opened for us, so get inside as quickly as you can. The men on the walls will take care of anyone coming after us, just don’t look back.”

Mutters met him in reply as eager eyes roamed the ground that had become a cemetery like wasteland outside the fort.

“Advance.” Varro ordered quietly as he slowly moved forward lowering his javelin level with the ground. Taking single steps, progress was slow as the small column of legionaries moved away from the gate, a few men gagged quietly at the stench of the swollen and bloated corpses.

“Get your scarves round your mouths and noses if you can’t stand the stench.” He said ordering the men to halt while scarves were pulled up around their faces, including his own.

“Advance.” He ordered again and moved forward. It took some time for them to satisfy themselves that the Britons weren’t nearby, except for the dead. Varro halted the men again and called Grattius forward.

“We’ll go and have a look from the edge of the trees. The men can wait here while we do it.” Varro said.

“Oh good I was hoping you would suggest that.” Grattius replied sarcastically grinning at his centurion. Varro didn’t reply and told the rest of the men to remain where they were but if he and Grattius were attacked they were to make their own way back to the safety of the fort.

“It gets better.” Grattius responded.

“Tip of the spear, remember my friend.” Varro said winking and began walking forward with Grattius close behind. Reaching the foliage before the wood, Varro stopped again and listened for any sign of the enemy. He turned to Grattius who shrugged.

“Nothing.” He said.

Varro looked back to the walls of the fort where Cammius shook his head and indicated that there was still no movement beyond his position. Varro turned and peered into the undergrowth, another dead body lay on its stomach just inside the bushes with a scorpion bolt buried up to the feathers of its shaft in the centre of the back.

“What can you see?” Grattius whispered moving from foot to foot nervously.

“Nothing except another dead Briton, I can’t see anything else, the trees and bushes are too thick.” He whispered back without turning still looking into the shadowed cover.

“Good now let’s get back inside.” Grattius said.

Varro stuck his javelin into the undergrowth and examined the corpse prodding it. He saw that blood had risen to the top surface of the skin in a spotted pattern on the naked back and he knew that it indicated it had been there for a while.

“Come on let’s go back, there’s nothing else to see and we aren’t going to achieve anything stumbling about out here.” He said. They turned and got the troops back to the safety of the gates that were quickly closed and barricaded once they were inside.

As the sun started to fall, a full cohort came along the track cutting through the woods, the men on the ramparts cheered and the gates were quickly opened allowing them inside where conditions were slowly getting worse, especially with the seriously injured. With four hundred men in addition to those still fit to fight, it meant the injured could be evacuated to Isca and patrols could be sent out to scout the countryside for the Britons, it also meant that the ravaged auxiliary fort Restormel could be restored and the dead buried. The corpses outside the small legionary fort were piled up and burned, the smell was awful but it was something that had to be done as quickly as possible in order to prevent disease. That night for the first time in many, most of the resident occupants got a good night’s sleep as the men of the cohort volunteered to mount the guard around their defences.

The next morning mounted troops set off in three different directions; Varro had chosen to take his men to Restormel to see the damage for himself. The tracks and woods were eerily quiet on the way and once in a while they came across a dead Briton abandoned by those who had decided to leave so quickly. As they got to the clear ground before the wooden walls of the fort, the devastation was apparent for all to see. A large hole now existed along the front approximately fifty paces from the actual gate, where now only smashed wood and charred remains stood at odd angles. The auxiliaries must have been attacked in the same manner as they had been only here the Britons had succeeded in getting beyond the defences properly. The heads of some of the defenders were impaled on the wooden stakes on the top of the walls, they’re eyes already gone, more than likely eaten by crows or other carrion.

“It doesn’t look like they stood a chance.” Grattius remarked looking at the damage.”

“This isn’t going to be pleasant but someone has to do it, come on.” Varro said clicking Staro forward. He stopped again a few yards short of the entrance when the smell hit him.

“Scarves.” He shouted as they all lifted the material over their faces and mouths. He got down off Staro. “Grattius, leave your horse with Balbus, let’s have a look inside first.”

Grattius got down off his mount looking none too pleased and handed the reins to the legionary, he resisted the urge to say something to his commander knowing it wasn’t a good idea in front of the men. Varro led the way inside where he was surprised to see a few wooden buildings still standing, the shells at least, he could see the roof had collapsed through the now none-existent doors. He held the material of his scarf against his mouth and nose as the smell threatened to penetrate the cloth.

“Gods it stinks in here.” He commented mumbling and moving forward. Inside the shell of one of the old barrack blocks they found the majority of the men who had been forced to retreat there. Charred, blackened bodies lay, some now skeletal through the heat of the fire, others with limbs missing burned away by the intense heat. Open jawed skulls, teeth still white lay amongst ashes with white bones, their mouths open wide in terror as they had been when they died.

“The poor bastards didn’t stand a chance once they were in here.” Grattius said looking around.

“It was either that or face capture and torture, I suppose.” Varro replied, “Personally I don’t know which would have been worse.”

Every step they took, they had to pick their boots up high to avoid spraying dust clouds of ash and were careful putting them back to the surface. It was impossible to account for all the men who had once manned Restormel. Outside and along the defence’s walls that were still intact, they found more headless corpses than those that were still in one piece. Clearly the fight for the small fort had been savage and the defenders had eventually lost, there was however, evidence of dead Britons outside and a few inside, so the attackers hadn’t had it all their own way.

“This could have been us quite easily.” Varro said. “At least we were warned when they were attacked here, I doubt we’d have been so fortunate if they’d come to us first with the element of surprise.”

“What are we going to do about the dead sir?” Grattius asked.

“We’ll do our best for them, we would want the same, there’s no point in waiting for a burial party to get here from Isca, it will be tomorrow by the earliest.” He looked around at the devastation, “They sent a scout back as soon as the cohort got here so there will be a few hundred more troops with us tomorrow. We’ll let Cammius know what we’ve found after having a look round the outlying area and we’ll do what we can, even if it’s just to get them all in one place.”

They checked around what was left of the rest of the small outpost and found virtually nothing of any worth, it had been stripped bare by the raiders and picked clean save for ruined weapons, they had taken the livestock, pay chest, weapons, armour and horses and were now probably miles away. Varro and his men searched the countryside nearby but found nothing in the mud except for a few more dead, who had now become victims to the local wildlife who had taken chunks of flesh from them.

It took a few days for the dead Britons to be burned, and burial in a mass grave for the soldiers who had fallen. More reinforcements arrived from Isca and soon the injured were evacuated safely there and reports were presented to the Governor. The entire fort at Restormel was knocked down and taken apart and rebuilt with larger, stronger defences and manned by legionaries not auxiliaries. Two full centuries now manned both forts as plans were drawn up to build others in line with the suggestions by Cammius. The Britons had come close to destroying two reasonably well fortified and defended positions and it couldn’t be allowed to happen again, and every step was taken to ensure it didn’t. Ten days after the cessation of hostilities Varro, together with Cammius and his men, slowly made their journey north and back towards Isca. Fresh troops watched them leave from the defences as the small convoy of men, horses and wagons departed, some wishing they were going with them.